Love, Listography, and Divine Intervention
by ayashina
Summary: Including a generous amount of sulking, brooding, peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches, and the occasional ancient deity. Love stories aren't always story shaped. Modern!AU, Erik/Charles


**A/N: **Long time no see! I'm trying something a little new here, so any constructive criticism you have would be super-helpful! Load it on me! For the spellings of Jewish words, I looked to my close Jewish friend and my favourite Jewish bakery. I hope they are to your satisfaction. All places mentioned by name in this story are real, and I hope that if you ever find yourself in Portland, you take your time to have a look at them. Enjoy!

...

Charles Xavier is moping. It couldn't be categorized as anything else, except for maybe sulking, if you wanted to look at it that way. At the moment, however, we'll say that Charles is moping. There will be much time for sulking in his near future.

Charles is moping because it is too hot out. Now, this may make Charles come across as a bit of a brat, but that is not the case. If you got to Charles, you'd find that he is a gentle, selfless sort of person, and chances are, you'd get along just fine. You'd also find that Charles isn't _really _moping because of the heat.

Reasons Charles Xavier is moping on the afternoon of July 3rd, 2011:

- He's had a rather nasty fight with his parents

-He moved to America on a whim to spite them

-Leaving all of his friends, his sister, and most of his career behind

-Simultaneously getting himself cut of from his rather sizeable inheritance

…

In short, Charles is moping because he is unsure of his future in his current financial state, homesick, and very _very _lonely. The fact that is too hot out is the proverbial 'stick that broke the camel's back.'

It was recently mentioned that Charles had left all of his friends behind in England. This is not entirely true, because:

-Charles has been to America before

-Where he met his best friend in the entire universe

-And fallen truly, madly, deeply in love with him

-Subsequently causing himself to leave America on very short notice after graduating University

…

Another thing you'd learn about Charles if you got to know him is that Charles is very polite. After he left America, he kept in touch with said friend via email (Charles is a bit old fashioned). Through this ongoing series of polite emails, Charles has managed to convince himself he is no longer in love with said friend, who Charles will meet outside a bookstore in two and a half minutes. It will take Charles three seconds to stop moping, and five more to start sulking, when he realizes he is still in love with aforementioned friend.

Facts about Charles' mysterious American friend:

-His name is Erik Lehnsherr

-He is not really American

-He has a very sharky smile that Charles adores

-Charles has spent many nights wondering what it would be like to kiss him

…

Charles will also spend many nights thinking what would have happened if he had decided to run for the light at the crosswalk, instead of just waiting for it to change again. This is because if he had ran for the light, he would have missed Erik, and, although he may not see it in two and a half minutes, missed out on one of the most important moments of his life.

Other important moments in Charles' near future:

-A Greek Goddess will fall through his ceiling

-Erik will kiss him

…

More facts about Erik Lehnsherr:

-He is an up-and-coming architect

-When he first came to America to study, he was very poor and very lonely, more so than Charles is now

-Charles was, at the time, neither of those things, and yet he gave Erik the warmest friendship he had ever felt, as well as a place to stay

-Erik is about to return the favour

…

Charles notices a sign across the street. It says "Powell's Books" in white block letters against a plastic blue background. It is a very ugly sign, with about as much design aesthetic as a high school bathroom, but it is worth mentioning because it captures Charles' attention, and in it's own way, helps reunite a pair of star-crossed lovers. The owner of Powell's books never hears about this, but we can assure you he'd be very proud.

Facts about Powell's Books:

-It is not a very pretty building

-It is the largest bookstore in North America

-It is across from Erik's favourite Jewish deli

…

Erik is planning on going to his favourite Jewish deli, Kenny & Zuke's, for lunch, when he spies Charles looking in the window of Powell's.

Facts about Kenny & Zuke's:

-Every item on the menu is delicious

…

At first Erik is not sure it's Charles he's seeing, so he doesn't call out his name, but when he gets closer, he notices Charles' oddly intense blue gaze eyeing up some first-edition Hemingway, and Erik immediately knows the man pressing his face against the glass is, indeed, Charles Xavier, the man Erik considers to be his best friend in the entire universe.

Another thing Erik can tell by looking at Charles' eyes:

-Charles is feeling rather miserable

…

Erik greets Charles as though no time has passed between them, and as if Charles going back to England hadn't broken his heart.

One important fact about Erik Lehnsherr that failed to be mentioned:

-He is as in love with Charles as Charles is with him

…

Charles reciprocates, and the two are off for lunch at Kenny & Zuke's. It is at this point in time that Charles switches from moping to sulking, although Erik is quite thick when it comes to matters of the heart, and he won't understand why.

The reason Charles is no longer moping and is now sulking:

-He has realized, just on site, that he is still in love with Erik

...

It takes a bit of goading, but Erik convinces Charles to explain what's wrong. These things were pushed to the back of his mind upon seeing Erik, and now that Charles remembers why he was moping in the first place, he realizes how glum his situation is, and ends up telling Erik everything over a ricotta blintz. Charles ends his sorry tale by sobbing into his complimentary organic, hand-squeezed orange juice over how hot it is outside.

A few more facts about Erik Lehnsherr:

-It was mentioned that he was quite thick when it comes to matters of the heart. He is, as a matter of fact, very, _very _dense about that sort of thing

-He does _not _sulk or mope

-He broods. Ferociously

…

The difference between Charles and Erik is, when Charles thought Erik would never love him back, he packed up, moved to England, and spent a lot of time feeling rather sad and, well, _mopey. _Erik, on the other hand, created a twenty-four hour schedule for himself so he could do anything _but _think about Charles. He brooded a lot. He also drank a lot of coffee.

Erik invites Charles to come and live with him, for the time being. Charles doesn't want to impose, but he knows how desperate his situation is. However, he believes (wrongly), that if he accepts, his heart will end up shattering into a million pieces. Charles ends up accepting because he is a glutton for punishment.

Erik likes to think he invited Charles to live with him because he is returning kindness from years ago, when Charles was studying English Literature and Journalism, while living in a rather well-to-do apartment courtesy of his parents. Charles shared everything he had with Erik back then, including his heart, unbeknownst to Erik, who is, as was earlier mentioned, extremely thick when it comes to matters of the heart. Erik is inviting Charles to live with him not only because he wishes to return kindness and can't bear to see his closest friend suffer, but also because he is in love with him, although it will hurt to be around him, because Erik (wrongly) believes that Charles does not return his feelings.

Facts about Charles' current 'apartment', if you could call it such:

-There is black mold across the inside of the entire southern wall

-The oven never fully preheats

-A week after Charles moves out, the Health and Safety department of Portland will have the building condemned

…

Facts about Erik's current apartment:

-It is in the trendier part of town

-It has a studio room for Erik to work in

-It is underneath the apartment of a couple of ancient Greek Deities

…

So Charles and Erik begin living together. They constantly offer to make each other breakfast, get the groceries, do the dishes, and a series of other niceties that have almost all their neighbours thinking they're newlyweds, or something along those lines. The only one who isn't fooled is Aphrodite.

Facts about Aphrodite:

-Yes, she is _that _Aphrodite

-She models for a living

-Ten days after Charles moves in, she will lose most of her divine power

-She will not know why

-She will fall through Charles' ceiling

-She will play a role much, _much _more prominent in Charles and Erik's relationship than the sign for Powell's Books

…

Erik is brooding. He's focusing much more on his latest project than necessary, and is fighting with himself over spending either more or less time around Charles, because both are painful. He is also drinking a lot of coffee.

Charles is sulking. He is putting of his latest journalism piece just enough so he has to cram, and he is sneaking Harlequin romance novels between the pages of Murakami and Shelley. He can't decide whether or not it was a bad idea to live with Erik, because he is convinced his feelings are unreturned. He also tortures his gummi bears before eating them.

It's July thirteenth. It's also a Friday, but Charles doesn't notice. He's too busy enjoying some bittersweet alone time with his dog-eared copy of _Red Hot Romances. _Aphrodite is pacing the floor above him. The vibes from the apartment beneath her have recently been interrupting her beauty sleep, and she's in the mind to go downstairs and-

Aphrodite doesn't finish that thought.

A few relevant facts about Gods:

-Much of their power is related to peoples' belief in them

-Aphrodite hasn't quite figured that out yet

-They've gotten over most of their old grudges with each other

-They are less old-fashioned than Charles, in most respects

…

An Interlude:

There is a very famous picture of a sailer swooping down to kiss a young woman. In truth, it was Aphrodite's work that helped the lad woo his lady-love, and it was his belief in Aphrodite that kept her powers stable for the last half-century. He loved his wife very much, but as this veteran passed away in his sleep with her by his side, Aphrodite's thought was interrupted.

…

Reasons Aphrodite's thought is interrupted:

-Her divinity wavers, she falls through ceiling over where Charles is busy sulking, and she lands on him

…

Charles' session with _Red Hot Romances _is suddenly interrupted by a lapful of very beautiful, very _naked _woman. Charles has long accepted that he is gay, and a tan, curvaceous lady with long, wavy brown hair and legs up to gods-know-where doesn't really seem like a miracle, no matter what _Red Hot Romances _is telling him. He screams, and falls off the sofa, book in hand and Goddess in tow. His attempts at escape prove futile, and he only succeeds in entangling them together further. He screams some more, and Aphrodite, somehow managing to think over the din, spies an opportunity.

"Hello, Charles, I-"

"How do you know my _name_?"

"I _live _here, anyways-"

"How did you _get here_?"

"I can explain-"

"Are you a ghost?"

"_Quiet!_" Aphrodite yells, banging her fists against whatever surface they've found themselves shoved up against. Somehow, she still manages to make it sound charming.

Charles does as he's told.

"I know your name because I'm your _neighbour. _I live _upstairs._ Nice to meet you." Aphrodite untangles herself from Charles and stands up, trying to look intimidating. It works, but not for very long.

Reasons Aphrodite will no longer be intimidating in a very short period of time:

-She stops being six feet tall and shrinks to five-foot-two

Aphrodite's powers are going a bit haywire. Her tall, Grecian form snaps and fizzles, and not even a second later, she's a five-foot-two Irish girl with doe eyes and arched brows. This time she joins Charles when he screams.

Some more facts about Aphrodite:

-Beauty cannot easily be defined. Thus, her form is fluid when she doesn't control it

-Now that her powers are on the fritz, she's changing involuntary

-She's slowly realizing how dangerous that is

…

Charles is looking rather faint. He's still on the ground, sandwiched between the sofa and the coffee table. Aphrodite tentatively tries to help him up, but her body switches to a rather limber African woman, tall enough to rival Erik, and she almost ends up dislocating Charles' shoulder. Charles manages on his own, after that. Funnily enough, despite his initial screaming, Charles is not frightened of the ever-changing woman. In fact, he's quite intrigued.

Another fact about Charles:

-He read into mythology quite a lot as a child. He never thought it would help him out.

…

The pair relocate to the kitchen, and Charles lends Aphrodite his bathrobe, which alternates between being either too short, too long, or just right. Aphrodite doesn't understand what's wrong with her powers, and she's incredibly distraught. Charles informs her she's still very beautiful when she cries, and offers to make her lunch. Much like you would, upon meeting Charles, Aphrodite quite likes him, and takes him up on the offer. Charles makes peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches with the crusts cut off, because it strikes him as the ultimate comfort food.

Facts about peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches with the crusts cut off:

-They are the ultimate comfort food

-They go nicely with milk

-They are soon to be one of Aphrodite's favourite foods. Thank goodness for godly metabolisms

…

Between sticky mouthfuls, Aphrodite explains who she is to Charles, who is less shocked than you think he would be.

Reasons Charles is not very shocked:

-Most of the initial shock happened when Aphrodite landed on him

-She fell through his ceiling, without leaving or gaining a scratch

-She seems incredibly nice. And sane

-She is very beautiful, no matter what form she's in

-She's _changing forms_

…

It's fair to say Charles half believes her already, and Aphrodite's shape shifting is slowing down as her and Charles talk.

"I mean, of _course _I didn't love Hephaestus at first! I was young and rebellious, and Zeus was forcing me to _get married _on the first day he met me! It's not like he's my _dad, _or anything. Who did he think he was? Anyways, after a millennia or so, I realized Hephaestus was a really great guy, got over myself, and, well, fell in love with him."

By the time they're done, Aphrodite is no longer snapping and popping into different people, and she notices something.

What Aphrodite noticed:

-Gods need belief to function fully

-Athena told her the same thing a millennia and a bit ago, but with quite a few more words, and Aphrodite didn't catch what she said _at all._

…

On her way out the door, Aphrodite remembers Charles rather sorry love life, and remembers why she'd been thinking about Charles in the first place.

"By the way, Charles, Erik is completely and irrevocably in love with you. Do the world a favour and _tell him._"

Then she's gone, and Charles can't exactly pinpoint what he's feeling, though he's sure it isn't a mopey or sulky feeling.

Charles spends the remainder of the afternoon trying his hardest to do productive things. After all that moping and sulking, he's feeling rather restless, and it seems like the perfect time to finish his latest journalism piece.

Five revisions later, it's only half past three, and Charles can't get his left knee to stop _bouncing. _He realizes, now that he's _really _looking, that he may as well clean the kitchen. And the bathroom. And the living room. He'd clean Erik's study, were he allowed, but he's under a very strict "suggestion" not to touch Erik's organized mess. Charles does a load of white laundry, but it's only five. Then Charles has another idea.

One would think said idea would have something to do with hailing a cab to Erik's office, bouquet of roses in hand, and promptly sweeping him off his feet, but Charles actual idea revolves around the fact that five p.m. is the perfect time to start cooking dinner. Sometimes, Charles is far too cautious for his own good.

Charles is making chicken soup with Matzah balls, partially because he knows it's an old favourite of Erik's, and partially because the only other recipe that comes to mind is peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches, with the crusts cut off. Charles doesn't think those are _quite _romantic enough, which is a bit ironic, considering the Greek Goddess of love is wolfing one down on the floor above him.

Erik is sitting in his office. In one hand, he holds a thin, white tie, and in the other, his cell phone. He's in the middle of a ferocious brooding session, complete with furrowed brows, a well-used scowl, and a cup of dark, bitter coffee. Erik has a work function to attend. He doesn't _really _have to go, and Erik doesn't _really _like parties that much. But then Erik thinks back to who's waiting for him at his apartment: Charles. Charles, with his baby blues and his subtle, knowing, naïvety that makes Erik squirm in his seat a little. Coming home to Charles, putting down his latest book, bouncing over like a golden retriever, and offering to take his bag makes the hollows in Erik's ribs ache a little bit. They're almost completely domestic, and Erik feels like the most selfish of creatures every time he fantasizes about exploring _other _facets of domesticity with Charles. It's practically sickening, really. Erik's self pity is beginning to echo rather loudly around the office, and Erik feels for at least the fifty-third time since Charles moved in with him, hopeless. He decides he could use a night out, after all. Shrugging a black blazer over his black button-up, Erik dons the tie and pulls a pair of black dress shoes out from under his desk. He wishes, fleetingly, that Charles were here to straighten his tie and kiss him for good luck.

A brief note about Erik and domesticity:

-During University, Erik and Charles were so incredibly domestic in their carrying-on, most of their friends assumed they were childhood sweethearts

-Erik has lost track of the number of times he wished he hadn't corrected them

…

Erik texts Charles to tell him he won't be home for dinner, despite the fact it's an extremely impersonal thing to do, because he knows upon hearing Charles' voice, he would immediately change his mind. Slipping on the dress shoes, Erik walks down the the stairs of the office, not unlike a man going to the gallows, and steps into the evening glow of the parking lot.

It's eight o clock, and Charles is watching the door expectantly from the kitchen when his phone buzzes. He reads Erik's texts, and finds himself slumping to the floor, back against the oven, feeling utterly defeated.

The Text, The Reply:

-"At a work thing for the lottery home. Don't wait up for dinner."

-"K. Have fun!"

-Obviously, neither of these capture the essence of what each person wished to say

…

Charles tucks his knees against his chest and tries not to pout. He can't think of a time he's ever been more disappointed, and he's under the slight (correct) impression that Erik is avoiding him. Charles firmly believes that Aphrodite knew what she was saying when she said Erik loves him, but Charles is feeling drained after slaving over the stove for a good while, and is _really _finding it difficult not to pout.

Aphrodite can't decide which earrings to wear. Hephaestus is a brilliant interior designer, and Aphrodite knows he really deserves to work on the new lottery home, but as brilliant as he is, and as much as Aphrodite loves him, she thinks paying Charles a visit might have a more satisfying result.

She snaps her fingers, and not a second later, appears in Charles kitchen, the fabric of her red dress drawn tight over her broad hips. The smell of something delicious and savoury hits her immediately. Looking down, Aphrodite finds Charles sitting cross-legged against the oven, nursing a container of lemon yoghurt while trying (and failing) not to pout. The immaculate state of the kitchen and the dinner cooling on the stove have Aphrodite putting two and two together. Earrings forgotten, Aphrodite lets out a sigh.

"Oh, _Charles_! Was this all for…?"

Charles looks up, disappointment personified. "Hey, Aphrodite. There was a… work function. Something for this lottery home thing. Erik doesn't even _like _work parties… anyways, you can help yourself to dinner if you like."

"I'm sure Erik didn't mean-" Something in Aphrodite's head clicks. "-Did you say _lottery home_?"

"I'm beginning to think he's avoiding- huh? Yeah, what about it?"

Aphrodite feels a wicked grin coming on. She hasn't felt like this since the _seventies!_

What Aphrodite did in the seventies:

-It's rather _who _Aphrodite did in the seventies

-You'll find out soon enough

…

Charles is an eensy-weensy bit concerned about what Aphrodite might be planning, but curiosity is eating him alive, and he can't help but go along with it when Aphrodite asks him if he has any plans for the evening, even if the tone in her voice screams trouble.

"Well, as you can see…" Charles gestures to the yoghurt.

"Excellent! Now, do you have anything to wear? We have a party to crash!"

"Are you _suggesting _that we …_crash_ Erik's work function?"

"I happen to have an invitation, Charles. You can be my guest Now let's get you suited up!" Aphrodite grabs Charles' hand, snaps her fingers again, and the pair are in Erik's guest room. Charles gives himself a moment to catch his breath.

"That was… new."

Aphrodite sticks out her tongue. She is not very mature for her age.

"Uh, Aphrodite… to tell you the truth, most of my… _formal _wear is back in England."

Aphrodite waves a hand nonchalantly as she makes her way over to Charles' modest dresser. "I'm sure we'll find something!"

Ten minutes later, Aphrodite is wrong about fashion for the first time in over a century, and Charles looks like he just robbed a J Crew. The overall impression is, to say the least, not quite what Aphrodite was going for. Not at all deterred, Aphrodite flips her hair over her shoulders with a manicured hand, and straightens up.

"Well, if I'm going to play the part, I may as well look the part!" She does a little twirl, and Charles finds himself in the company of an ivory-haired lady, aging gracefully in a dress Charles thinks is reminiscent of a doily.

"It's fairy godmother time, Charles!" Aphrodite smiles gleefully, pulling a wand out of thin air purely for effect.

"You like like Meryl Streep."

Aphrodite giggles. "Ah, memories."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

Facts about Meryl Streep:

-_Morgan Freeman _has admitted she is perfect

-Her and Aphrodite had a brief affair in the seventies

…

A purely just-for-fun wave of her wand later, Aphrodite has Charles looking extremely fetching in a crisp white button up, a grey blazer (without elbow patches, despite much protesting from Charles), dark-seamed jeans, and a pair of matte black oxfords. She blows pixie dust off the tip of her wand, as if it were a gun, while Charles ogles at his refection in a floating, sparkling mirror.

"Do I smell… cologne?"

"Bottled Night, by Hugo Boss. It's all in the details, Charles. Now your fair prince awaits!" Aphrodite lays a hand on Charles' shoulder, and with a wink from the goddess, Charles finds himself in Aphrodite and Hephaestus' apartment, with Aphrodite back in her slinky red cocktail number. A tall, gawky man in a pair of thick rimmed, coke-bottle lens glasses peers at Charles as he adjusts his cufflinks. Aphrodite's eyes light up, and she pulls Charles over to meet him.

"Hephaestus, this is my new friend, Charles. Charles, this is my husband, Hephaestus."

Hephaestus gives Charles a lopsided grin and sticks out his hand. "Pleasure. Are you to be joining us this evening?" His voice has a very practiced elegance to it, and Charles can imagine how he managed to capture Aphrodite's heart with his slightly rough-on-the-edges brand of charm. Hephaestus turns to his wife and gestures to the earrings in her hand. They vanish, instantly appearing on her ears. "I'd wear the pearls. They bring out your smile."

Aphrodite grins, revealing two rows of perfect, white teeth, standing out against her tan skin. She adjusts her husband's tie and gives him a little peck on the cheek, before taking the crook of his arm and summoning her clutch bag from across the room. Charles can't help but feel envious of their closeness. He'd liked to have done that sort of thing for Erik before he left for the evening, too.

Erik is coating up a petite woman with a wavy brown bob cut and a black dress. The sweet heart neckline and tapered waist compliments her figure, and her shade of lipstick highlights her complexion nicely. Her name is "Charlotte-but-my-friends-call-me-Charles", and her blue eyes lack the intensity of the _other _Charles, but Erik is considering going home with her.

Facts about Charlotte "Charles" Shelley Douglas:

-She will _not _be going home with Erik tonight

-She will, however, get the number of the smokey-eyed Korean man chatting to a redhead on the other side of the bar

-The only time she'll think of Erik again is when she wakes up one San Francisco morning

…

A Look Elsewhere:

The light shining through the white cotton curtains has decided to be malicious, and hits Charlotte straight in the face as the sun reaches her window. Charlotte cracks an eye open. Her mouth tastes _evil, _and her hair feels dry and scratchy. Her sinuses are clogged up entirely, and her tissue box is empty. She probably looks worse than she feels. Charlotte feels a headache coming on. Her door cracks open, and Bae peeks in. A morning person, he looks as cheery as ever as he tip toes over to her bed, carrying a tray loaded with fresh fruit, a cup of green tea, a bagel liberally covered in cream cheese, a tylenol, and a pack of tissues.

"Feeling any better?"

"You're a _godsend, _Bae, you know that?"

Bae rolls his eyes and squeezes into bed next to her. "You look like hell, Lottie."

"Thanks a _bunch._"

"Lottie?"

"Yeah?"

"D'you wanna get married?"

When she's slipping on the ring, Charlotte ponders all that she would have missed if on that night, all those years ago, had she gone home with Erik Lehnsherr, as she'd planned. She's never been more grateful for the incredibly strange interruption in the form of a rather abrupt man dragging Erik off in the middle of their conversation.

…

Charles sees Erik by the bar, speaking in low tones to the brunette across from him. Charles knows, as he marches up and steers Erik in the direction of the cloakroom, that he's running entirely on faith, adrenaline, and autopilot. It's a dangerous combination, but not as dangerous as tall, dark, and handsome, which Erik is accidentally sporting.

They're standing _awfully _close in the dark cloakroom, and Erik would be happy to stare at his shoes, if Charles weren't staring at him with an _intensity _that was completely missing from Charlotte's gaze. Erik takes a deep breath and tries to say something, but the faintest whiff of Hugo Boss curls into the roof of his mouth, mixed with the familiar, hazel-nutty scent of _Nutella_ (which is a combination more weird than dangerous), and Erik shuts up. Charles holds up a finger.

"I have something to say." Part of Charles wants to turn tail and run, but he's in much, _much _too deep to turn back now. Besides, this whole thing is a bit _dangerous _and _exciting, _and Charles has never flet this way before, but it's crazy exhilarating, and he sort of _likes _it. "Okay. Cards on the table. When I went back to England, it's not because I wanted to leave you behind, but sometimes being in the same hemisphere as you, I couldn't… It's not that I didn't _like _you, it's because I really, _really- _but I didn't think you were… did you know how many times I've wanted to go over to and just… uh, well, bugger, _kiss _you? I _really _wanted to. I mean, really _want _to. Like, even right now. I could pretend I didn't, when I was in England, but now I'm _here, _and you're _here, _and I can't _not _want to because I think I- I, well… I think I'm…" Charles trails off.

Erik is silent. It's just that. A small, fragment of quiet space, and it's taking over the whole tiny, stagnant closet and making Charles hands shake, and the silence doesn't seem so small anymore. For a brief second, Charles wonders if Aphrodite was wrong. It's a fleeting thought, but it almost cracks his heart down the middle. The adrenaline is gone, the autopilot is shut down, but there's still that little bit of faith keeping Charles in the cloakroom, willing the silence to go away. And it does.

"Do you still want to kiss me?" It's faint; so inaudible Charles almost misses it.

"Erik?"

"Do you?"

"Uh, well… If it's not like, a _personal space invasion _or anything, I'd really, _really- _If you don't mind, but if you do-"

In case you didn't notice:

-Charles is not very suave

-He rambles when he gets nervous

-He's like a twelve year old at his first school dance

-Minus the ill-fitting suit

…

"I'd like that, Charles."

"Oh! Well, if you're _sure_-"

"Charles. Stop worrying."

"Oh…" And Charles does. He takes a little step closer and wraps his arms around Erik's shoulders. He feels a pair of hands, tentative and feather light, splay over his hips. He watches the column of Erik's neck bob as he swallows, a tad nervously. "Are you…?"

"For quite some time, yes."

And that's all it takes. Charles cranes his neck a little and rests his lips against Erik's, feeling Erik's fingers twitch oh-so-slightly. That's when the fireworks behind his eyelids go off, and Charles is standing on his tippy-toes, pulling Erik closer as he tries to feel more of that _energy._

Aphrodite can see a hazy, golden glow emanating from the cloakroom. She smiles knowingly into her mojito.

"Finally!"

Noses are bumping and teeth are colliding, and Charles is sure there are _sparks _every time he hears their teeth clicking together. It's getting messy, and all of those unsaid little _things _are making Charles vibrate a little as Erik pulls them flush together. It's like the world outside the airless, badly-lit cloakroom doesn't exist, because everything Charles _wants _and _needs_ is right here. Naturally, this is when there's a muffled knock on the door. Charles feels Erik's lips curve into a smile as he rests a finger on Charles' mouth, urging him to be quiet until the retreating footsteps are entirely gone. Charles adjusts Erik's crooked tie before dusting a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. Although neither mention it, it'd been something they'd both been hoping for.

The pair sneak out of the club unnoticed, except by Aphrodite, who catches Charles' eye and fixes him with a broad, mischievous grin.

Erik sees the freshly-cleaned apartment and the stone-cold dinner on the stove, and gets an awful feeling under his ribs. There's an infamous word squirming around in the back of his throat, and self-preservation be damned, he isn't going to correct himself if it comes out.

The infamous word:

-Think the "L" word

-_Not _the T.V. show

…

It does. Erik and Charles are sitting on the kitchen floor. Erik is eating re-heated soup, and Charles has insisted on making himself a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich with the crusts cut off. Erik doesn't question it. Erik is pondering on all of the time he missed that he could have had Charles all to himself, and he doesn't care how selfish it sounds, because eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds in a day is a lot of seconds. Seconds Erik can imagine being with Charles, and it sort of hurts how fast time seems to be moving.

"I love you." It's awkwardly loud and extremely abrupt. Charles is somehow managing to chew his food with his jaw on the floor.

"I love you." Erik tries again. The tone is softer, less like a realization and more like a statement, and Erik is focusing on the neon numbers of the microwave clock above Charles' head.

"…How long?"

Erik lowers his gaze to meet Charles'. "Somewhere between the babka and the scarf."

A well preserved memory:

It's Hanukkah, 2004. Even though Erik has found a friend and a home with Charles, but he feels incredibly lonely. It's his first Hanukkah without his mother, and the world seems _empty. _Erik can feel a physical ache in his chest. Charles or no, Erik feels awfully, terribly alone. He's sitting on a park bench. Watching the snow melt on the back of his hands. Parts of him want the snow to stay, to cover him in a white sheet. Just like she was covered. There's a knot in his throat that won't go away.

A figure perches on the edge of the bench, and Erik glances over to find himself next to Charles. Charles is holding a crudely homemade babka bun on a plate, with a napkin and fork in hand. He passes it to Erik tentatively, visibly concerned by his friend's behaviour.

"Happy… happy first day of Hanukkah, Erik."

Erik takes a cautious bite of the lukewarm pastry. The knot in his throat loosens a bit, and he lets out a small sob.

"…Erik?"

"I miss her." Erik confesses to the ground. "My mom. It's my first Hanukkah without her, and-" Another sob. Erik feels weak and he hates it, _hates _it, but Charles is rubbing soothing circles on his back and just _not talking, _and Erik imagines that it'll be okay.

It doesn't stop there. Erik teaches Charles how to properly light his Menorah, one of his few keepsakes from his mother, and every morning for the eight days of Hanukkah, Erik wakes up to find a gift at the foot of his bed. A bowl of cherries, a ballpoint pen, a Neil Gaiman novel, a metal ruler, a notepad, a bar of German dark chocolate, and on the last day, a thick, wool scarf. Somewhere in the middle, Erik fell in love with Charles, and he never stopped.

…

"Oh, _Erik._" Charles fixes with a watery grin and pulls him in for a kiss. And right then, the neon numbers become a hazy blur, and Erik can almost feel the earth stop spinning, just to make up for all that _time _that makes Erik feel extremely dense when it comes to matters of the heart.

A previously mentioned fact about Erik Lehnsherr:

-He _is _extremely dense when it comes to matters of the heart

-Fortunately for him, he's got a Love Goddess on his side.

…

Love stories aren't always shaped like stories. Charles has found a path to another world, to adventure beyond his wildest dreams, but he's content to stop the hero's journey before it starts, and explore his own little nook of the world. Every friday the thirteenth, he sacrifices a a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich by eating it, while spending his days and nights wrapped up in love from a man who is tall, dark, handsome, and incredibly dense when it comes to matters of the heart.

Eventually Erik will pop the question. Aphrodite and Charles' little sister will get to be the maids of honour, and Hephaestus the best man. It'll come out on the last day of Passover, as Erik presents Charles with a copy of some first-edition Hemingway while the two share a greasy bread bowl by candlelight. Charles will smile bright enough to put the sun to shame, Erik will feel the world stop turning again, and Aphrodite will stand up in the middle of self-administering a pedicure and shout "Finally!"

But right now, on the linoleum floors of Erik's apartment that still smell faintly of Mr. Clean, the Earth has started to spin again, and Erik doesn't want to waste the seconds ticking by wondering what his, no- _their_, future will hold.

Hint:

-It won't be brooding or sulking

…

_~Fin_


End file.
